I can feel his hands on me. I can feel his body pressed to mine. I can feel his hot breathe and smell the smoke as he whispers my name in my ear. My ears have always been sensitive.
Then a new sensation arises. One I can't control. And one I don't like. I can feel his lips on my neck, his tongue pressed hard, then sucking and biting. Again, tongue then teeth and sucking. It's horrible, but I can't stop my body's reaction to it. It makes me feel sick. I don't want this, but my body does.
I can feel bile in my throat, but keep it down.
His hands roam my body. Over my chest, up and in between my thighs. All over. There isn't a missing spot. I don't want this, but my body loves it. He stops. My body whines. I'm grateful. Then he slowly starts to take off my bottoms, leaving me in only underwear.
I don't want this, but my voice is trapped.
I can't speak.
I can't protest.
I want to, but I just can't.
The bile rises, but again I keep it down. I can feel something. Something pressed against me. Something that shouldn't be pressed against me. I can't move. I'm frozen. Tears start to fall. I can't feel anything, but I know.
I know what's going to happen.
I know I should scream.
I know I should beg him to stop.
But I can't and I know. This is the end. This is it. There's nothing I can do. I let it go too far. This is my fault. I should have said something when it started, but I didn't. I never do. I just let it happen.
I wince at the start, but lay motionless as it continues. Tears fall. Bile rises. It continues. Finally, he's done. He leaves me and I let the bile rise up my throat and out my mouth. And I know this is not the end. It never is.
~M. A.
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Inside My Mind
RandomDon't read if you're sensitive to the concept of suicide or depression